Readers, what is Broetry? Is it a joke? Is it low-brow entertainment? Is it satire or, worse, fratire? At the very least, it collapses the boundaries of a high form — poetry — with a very low state of being, the state of being a Bro. As outlined in the Hipster-Literary-Bro Continuum, the Bro is anathema to the Hipster and at best a lukewarm comrade of the Literary Man. But what of the Bro’s pen and his art?
We’ve long admired the work of Broet Laureate Brian McGackin, who famously fused the words Bro and Poetry into the perfectly reductive portmanteau we now call Broetry. In honor of McGackin and this growing if questionable literary tradition called Broetry, we’re pleased to publish some original broems submitted by another up and coming Literary Man, Marlon Frisby, a recent Columbia grad and writer of “surrealist fictions.”
Broem 1 – A Braux Pas
sorry dude bro
totally my b
Broem 2 – Memorial Day
Andrew and Katie went sailing
with her father on his boat
the Sunday before Memorial Day
And I was not invited
though I offered to bring beer
and wear seersucker club shorts
and promised not to be
an inebriate who asks her dad
So when are these two kids getting married?
Broem 3 – To the chick on the subway who asked me to play Oasis when I had my guitar
I’m mad sorry
I wish I did know
Do you need some chapstick, bro?
would you call your eyes hazel?